


To Dominik Where Ever You May Be

by DanielWalker



Category: Sala Samobójców | Suicide Room (2011)
Genre: Afterlife, Falling In Love, Heaven, Hell, Other, Purgatory, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanielWalker/pseuds/DanielWalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story takes place after Dominik's suicide. He enters into a ghost like state and wonders what happened. He is forced to contemplate his actions and sees the after effects of them. After he if forced to look at the people from his life, he is sent to purgatory, where he meets the angle of Death. Then, since suicide is a mortal sin, he is sent to hell. Where he stumbles across a portal that leads to a place meant for angels and demons where morality does not exist. After going to this portal, he goes on a quest to attempt to get into heaven. Find out whether is attempt his vain or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dead Father

              The wake was stark. The coffin laid open, and a homely face slept eerily. The room was empty, except for a measly green chipped vase with a single yellow flower in it.  A young man- of about eighteen- walked in, designer suit, and fresh raven hair slicked to the side. He looked upon his father’s face somberly. “Well, all good…” He paused, “or bad… things come to an end, I suppose.” Leaning in a little closer to the casket, his lips attempted to coil into a smile, but twitched and fell back to a frown.  “You left me a dog. But you don’t even have a dog.”              

                The young man turned military style and lightly floated to the only chair in the room. The wake had started a half hour ago, but it seemed he was the only one there. “What a shame.” He whispered, gently closing his blue eyes to absorb the morose energy in the room.

                The soft yellow walls deceived the vibes that emanated through the windows which displayed a bleak snow ridden January day. They also deceived the cold corpse that laid so artificially.

                Letting out a heavy sigh, the young man desperately tried to remember his father. His bald head, the smell of whiskey that always permeated from his breath, the auburn color of his whiskers on his square chin. Yes, that was the man.  “Dominik.” He imagined his father saying his name in that demanding tone. “Come out of there.” But where was there? In what context? Dominik could not recall.

                Formulating an image in his head, Dominik imagined the dog he never had. The whit soft fur and gentle puppy kisses. He imagined the love that was absent from his life. It was challenging for him to recall much of anything. He vaguely remembered a pink haired girl. And a boy he had kissed who then mocked him all over the internet and in school. He remembered clearly always being alone. His mother was always working or on affairs, the same as his father.

                His father. Right. Dead.

                Dominik rose gently from the cushioned chair, light on his step, he looked on his father’s face once more. But there wasn’t something quite right about it. No, something was off.  

                Footsteps echoed from the door on the other side of the room.  Dominik turned to see his mother weeping, casted in a black veil. He attempted to speak to her, but the words would not come out, as if his tongue was cut from his mouth, or his lips sown shut.

                The room began to fill with the faint sound of opera music which grew louder the closer his mother walked to the casket. Dominik observed each step meticulously, wondering why she hasn’t said a word to him yet. When she reached the coffin she fell down to her knees in despair.

                In a flash, as if a magic trick at a carnival, the room filled with sudden rows of people crying. Flowers surrounded the coffin giving off spectacular scents. Summer blazed in through the windows.

                His mother still wept. As if a hallucination, his father appeared and placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder.   

                ‘You should be dead.’ Dominik thought as his heart sunk into his stomach, and dread struck his soul. ‘You left me the dog.’ In a frantic display of melodramatic excited outburst, Dominik reached for his mother. But his hand slid through her arm and rested on the casket. His face fell face to face with his own. It was him who was dead.

                 It all came flooding back. Alex, who lead him on and publically humiliated him to the point where he wanted to die. Everyone who mocked him at school. The online suicide room. The manipulative pink haired girl who stole his heart but broke because she always wanted to die- Sylwia. How his parents weren’t there. How he went to the bar that night and impulsively ate his pills washed down with alcohol. He didn’t want to die. How he cried for his parents to be there just once, and died. He was dead. “There never was a dog.” A smile coiled on his bubble gum lips as a tear streamed from his eye. Then he vanished into thin air.  


	2. The Boy With Soft Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purgatory is a Library.

                When Dominik came to his senses, he was in a bright white room that was filled with rows of book shelves which held golden binded books. He looked down, shocked, at the white apparel that adorned his slender body. “Is this a dream?” He whispered.

                “No, ya dead. Like the rest of us.” A bright smiled young man, the same age as Dominik, bellowed in an unfamiliar tongue. The young man placed a golden book on the shelf, and stepped off of the ladder which he was on.

                “I can understand you. But I don’t think you’re speaking Polish.” Dominik gaped and his sudden understanding of a foreign language. (This is written in English, but as all the fans know, Dominik is Polish.)

                The boy laughed with an air of friendliness. “Yeah, ya right. I’m American. From Long Island actually, but I doubt ya know where that is. I’m Robby by the way.” Robby extended his hand for a shake, but was returned with as astounded look.

                Distracted Dominik replied. “I’m Dominik. Where am I?” Arching his neck he looked up at the enormous book shelves, and the vast abyss of the white ceiling.

                “Purgatory. We all go here before they decide where to place us permanently. Don’t worry you’re in good company.” He gestured to himself, and to an elderly woman who sat a distance away from a group of squawking girls.

                “How do I get home?” Dominik asked sheepishly, knowing that it was a foolish question. A sudden flash of memory hurt his head, he grabbed it in pain. A painful memory washed over his head, it was him walking into a bar and foolishly asking the bar tender if he had seen a girl with pink hair.

                Quickly, Robby grabbed his arms and caught Dominik before he could fall to the floor. “Whoa, take it easy. I know it’s a lot ta take in.” Dominik took a deep breath and attempted to return to his normal demeanor. “But you don’t, you’re dead.” Robby said with a melancholic frown. When helping Dominik to his feet fully, Robby’s fingers graced a black ribbon bracelet that was tied loosely to Dominik’s wrist. “Why is yas black?” Robby held up his wrist, “mine’s yellow.”

                The old woman, draped in a white dress, slowly crept toward them. Her wrinkles formed a weary smile, and she held up her hand and caressed Dominik’s cheek. The white ribbon on her wrist tickled his neck. “My sweet boy, what did you do to your soul?”

                Dominik was struck with silence.

Names being called into invisible rooms echoed throughout the strange library. “Dominik Santorski.” He heard his voice called in the distance.  

                “Wh-why am I-I be-eing, called?” He stammered.

                “To be placed.” The old woman took her hand from his face and pointed to the end of the row that they were in, past the squawking girls, to an open red door where a man stood- in a white suit- staring at them with Japanese features.  

                “Why am I going before you, weren’t you here first?” Fear flickered in Dominik’s eyes, a small flame ready to be extinguished.

                Robby comfortingly placed his hand on Dominik’s shoulder. “We are waiting for someone. Someone that we love very much, and until he comes, we will not leave. But go. I’ll walk you there.” He held out his hand for Dominik to hold.

                Taking a heavy gulp that hurt his chest, Dominik hesitantly took Robby’s big hand into his own. He was shocked how soft the strangers hand was. Reassured, he walked toward the door. The girls fell silent as the two young men walked past. “As if he could get the seer’s approval being so unloyal.” Dominik was confused about the murmur, but paid it no further mind.   

                They reached the bright red door, and the Japanese man looked at them with scrutiny. “Just one moment.” Robby pleaded with him then looked back to Dominik. “Don’t be scared.” He took his hand from Dominik’s but before pulling it away completely, he tugged at the black ribbon, removing it from Dominik’s wrist and tying it to his own. “Everyone needs some help from time to time.” Dominik stood, puzzled by the gesture.

                “Robby!” Both their heads jolted and their eyes fell upon a beautiful girl with golden hair and eyes the shade of emeralds. From down the row, She ran toward them.

                “Crisel.” Robby longingly whispered, half with sorrow, the other half with relief. He looked back to Dominik. “I must go. But I believe we will meet again.” Pulling away from Dominik, Robby proceeded toward Crisel.

                “Come.” The man in the white suit demanded without emotion.

                “Who are you?” Dominik innocently questioned.

                “Hreshtaky Mahvan.” The words came out, but these words Dominik could not understand. “The angel of death.” The man clarified. “But you can call me Hikaru.”  Hikaru gestured for Dominik to enter the room.

                “Who was that guy who helped me?” Dominik questioned before budging.

                “Someone whom you now owe a great debt to, but let him not concern you. Enter.” Hikaru placed his hand on Dominik’s back and forcefully shoved him into the room. The door slammed behind them, and disappeared from the library completely.   

**Author's Note:**

> I use to be living, quietly bleeding. Now, I am dead, quietly hoping.


End file.
